if it had begun its career far back
in the previous century.

Mrs Flint was Scotch, and, although she had lived from early womanhood
in London, had retained something of the tone and much of the
pronunciation of the land o' cakes.

"Ye'll be wat, lassie," she said to May, who was putting off her bonnet
and shawl in a corner. "No, Grannie," returned the girl, using a term
which the old woman had begged her to adopt, "I'm not wet, only a little
damp."

"Change your feet, lassie, direc'ly, or you'll tak' cauld," said Mrs
Flint in a peremptory tone.

May laughed gently and retired to her private boudoir to change her
shoes. The boudoir was not more than eight feet by ten in size, and
very poorly furnished, but its neat, methodical arrangements betokened
in its owner a refined and orderly mind. There were a few books in a
stand on the table, and a flower-pot on the window-sill. Among the pegs
and garments on the walls was a square piece of cardboard, on which was
emblazoned in scarlet silk, the text, "God is love." This hung at the
foot of the bed, so as to be the first object to greet the girl's eyes
on awaking each morning. Below it hung a row of photographs, embracing
the late Reverend James Maylands, his widow, his son Philip, his distant
relative Madge, and the baby. These were so arranged as to catch the
faint gleam of light that penetrated the window; but as there was a
twenty-foot brick wall in front of the window at a distance of two
yards, the gleam, even on a summer noon, was not intense. In winter it
was barely sufficient to render darkness visible.

Poor May Maylands! It was a tremendous change to her from the free air
and green fields of Ireland to a small back street in the heart of
London; but necessity had required the change. Her mother's income
could not comfortably support the family. Her own salary, besides
supporting herself, was devoted to the enlargement of that income, and
as it amounted to only 50 pounds a year, there was not much left to pay
for lodgings, etcetera. It is true Miss Lillycrop would have gladly
furnished May with board and lodging free, but her house was in the
neighbourhood of Pimlico, and May's duties made it necessary that she
should live within a short distance of the General Post-Office. Miss
Lillycrop had heard of the Flints as being good-hearted and trusty
people, and advised her cousin to board with them, at least until some
better arrangement could be made